


Porcelain

by TheLordOfLaMancha



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enjolras is having an off day, Enjoltaire Week 2017, ExR Week 2017, Grantaire is a good boyfriend, M/M, Prompt Fill, lots and lots of cuddling, soft, void days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/pseuds/TheLordOfLaMancha
Summary: The energy was coming back into Enjolras. Grantaire could almost feel it in the air like the dawn chasing away the morning fog. The porcelain was softening back into clay. Not marble. But something softer and more human than that.Or, the one where Grantaire finds out that even Enjolras isn't free from depression and helps him out with it.Filled for the Enjoltaire Week 2017 prompt, "Soft." Day #3.





	Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> This gets... real. I wanted to make it authentic. So if reading about depression second-hand isn't going to do great things for your mental health, please skip this one? I will forgive you for it.
> 
> There's no self-harm or anything really physical like that, it's very quiet and understated, but I want everyone who is reading fanfiction to have a safe, fun time.
> 
> Thanks to [meanttobeclever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanttobeclever/pseuds/meanttobeclever) for reading this over for me. And also thanks to my lovely, literary wife, [TeatimeDuchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeatimeDuchess/pseuds/TeatimeDuchess), for beta-ing my Les Mis fic even though she's not even in the fandom.
> 
> As always, thanks to [just-french-me-up](http://just-french-me-up.tumblr.com/) and [apolloandr](http://apolloandr.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for hosting ExR Week 2017!

“Hey!” Grantaire called from the entrance as the door clicked shut behind him.

He was met with silence.

That’s odd, Grantaire thought, as he shucked off his shoes and tossed his bag in the corner. Enjolras hadn’t mentioned anything about going out today. Maybe they were out of groceries. Milk or eggs or something essential like that.

But as Grantaire padded softly to the kitchen, it looked identical to how he had left it that morning. Not even a spoon or fork in the sink to show that Enjolras had eaten anything. Of course, Enjolras forgot to eat again, Grantaire thought absently, but quirked an eyebrow at the full coffee pot. He ran his fingers hesitantly along the glass.

Cold.

Worry had begun to settle into his bones as Grantaire checked his phone. Did he miss a text or a call? Nothing, just a reply from Prouvaire. Now that he thought about it, Enjolras had never replied to Grantaire’s quick “have a good day!” text the brunette had sent off absently that morning.

He scanned the fridge, the table in the living room, by the door. No notes hastily scrawled in Enjolras’ nearly illegible handwriting. Just the mail that Grantaire had tossed onto the counter yesterday.

“Enj?” Grantaire called cautiously. Foolishly, Grantaire thought afterwards, no one was home.

Except.

Grantaire held his breath.

There. The quiet, tinny hum of a song playing off shitty cellphone speakers faded in from the bedroom. Muffled at first, then clear, then abruptly silenced.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire called again, making his way slowly to the bedroom.

But what if it wasn’t Enjolras? Grantaire thought suddenly. Of course it was Apollo, who else would be in their apartment?

Except.

Except, and Grantaire knew this was weird, but the air, the space, just felt… _wrong._

When Grantaire was in the same space as Enjolras, it was like the air came alive. Enjolras exuded urgency and energy and Grantaire fed on it like a leech. He tried to not to feed too much on the light like the storm cloud he usually was, but he knew he was drawn to the blonde’s presence like a desperate soul. Grantaire longed to come home to the feeling. It was like the sun on your skin after hiding under layers all winter.

But as he gently nudged open the ajar bedroom door, the air in the room felt thick and heavy. It was like walking through humidity in the middle of July, there was a resistance to it that poured out in waves. Grantaire felt like he was breathing underwater.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he spied the blonde lying in bed. Enjolras had shifted and hid his face into his pillow when Grantaire entered the room.

It was dark, and Enjolras was lying on his side, enveloped in his comforter with just his nose and his eyes and his soft blonde curls poking out above the edge. Grantaire could just spy a few fingers clutching desperately to the edge of the pillow. As far as Grantaire could tell, Enjolras hadn’t even changed out of his pajamas.

That’s unusual, Grantaire pondered from the doorway. It was normal for other people. Grantaire couldn’t think of the last time he actually changed on his day off unless he had to go out. But Enjolras was a creature of habit. Of routine. Especially in the morning.

And judging by the cold coffee pot, the lack of that day’s newspaper anywhere in the apartment, and the lanky limbs curled up and making lumps in the comforter, Enjolras had fucked that entire routine to hell this morning.

Maybe he’s sick? Grantaire thought absently.

He frowned as he rounded the bed. Enjolras didn’t look up at him. There were no eyes following his every move with the determination Enjolras always burned with. The blonde’s face stayed stubbornly turned into his pillow.

“Turn,” Grantaire commanded, nudging Enjolras’ head softly with his fingers. Enjolras complied once Grantaire’s fingers threaded into his wild curls, but the blonde’s gaze was passive and blank, still downcast. Grantaire reached across to place the back of his hand on Enjolras’ forehead.

“I’m not sick,” Enjolras said softly, monotone. Despite Grantaire’s hand on his face, he shifted so half his face was eaten up by the pillow.

Grantaire almost gasped.

“He speaks!” Grantaire teased, but he couldn’t put much heart in it. Enjolras looked so incredibly defeated. Broken.

He ran his fingers hesitantly and softly along Enjolras’ arm, pulling back the comforter as he went. Enjolras scarcely reacted to the touch and Grantaire sighed.

Grantaire had had his share his intimacies with the blonde god, and he was well aware how human he could be. But Grantaire would take his marble god, full of cold fire, over the hollow porcelain man lying next to him.

“What’s got you so quiet, ‘Pollo?” Grantaire chided, stretching out next to Enjolras and propping up his head with an arm. “Did a politician say something mean again?”

Instead of souring at the jibe, Enjolras simply shook his head.

Grantaire lowered his head until he was level with his boyfriend, watching him with wide eyes.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he tried again, slowly. “I’ve never seen you like this. It… well, it reminds me of me. On a bad day.”

Grantaire snuck a finger out and tapped the tip of Enjolras’ striking Roman nose.

“Boop.”

Enjolras’ lips twitched up just slightly. But his breathing was uneven and slow, muffled against the pillow.

“Nothing,” Enjolras finally breathed into his pillow.

“Enj, love, this isn’t nothing,” Grantaire replied, hooking a finger under Enjolras’ chin and trying to turn his face. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“No, no,” Enjolras shook his head. “I feel… ‘Taire, I feel nothing. Everything is just… nothing.”

Grantaire thought back to how only a couple days ago, the blonde had been almost shaking with righteous fury. Now he was… this. Empty.

Enjolras slowly snuck his fingers out from under his pillow and moved them to Grantaire’s hand under his face. The brunette expected Enjolras to push him away, but instead, he shifted Grantaire’s hand so he could run his fingers ever so softly and reverently over Grantaire’s palm.

The two breathed quietly into their shared space while Enjolras expanded his ministrations to gently run the tips of his fingers up each of Grantaire’s fingers in turn. The brunette hummed softly as he drew soothing circles with his free hand on Enjolras’ arm, shoulder, chest.

When Enjolras’ deep blue eyes finally snapped up to meet Grantaire’s, the brunette tangled their fingers and rolled forward to sneak a kiss. When he pulled away, Enjolras was smiling softly, his face half turned into his pillow again. He looked less like death when the subtlest of blushes warmed him.

The energy was coming back into Enjolras. Grantaire could almost feel it in the air like the dawn chasing away the morning fog. The porcelain was softening back into clay. Not marble. But something softer and more human than that.

Grantaire moved to sit up and take off his own shirt. But the minute he moved, a hand shot up and grasped his wrist.

“Don’t,” Enjolras said, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t go.”

Grantaire took Enjolras’ face in his other hand and soothed the deer-in-headlights look off the blonde’s face with his thumb.

“Shhhh,” he whispered, and when Enjolras’ grip on his wrist loosened, he took off his shirt and slid under the comforter with his boyfriend.

Enjolras’ extra fluffy pillows, his heavy comforter, and his extravagant jersey sheets were soft. But not as soft as the man himself as Grantaire gathered him in his arms. Enjolras turned to hide his face in the hollow made by Grantaire’s neck and melted. Grantaire buried his nose in the blonde’s curls and hummed gently.

“’Taire, I just…” Enjolras trailed off, whispering against his shoulder. Grantaire would be lying if he said it didn’t tickle at least a little bit. “I just want… Stay.”

Grantaire just chuckled quietly and held Enjolras tighter in his arms. They laid like that, simply breathing, simply existing, as Grantaire’s heart hammered out a steady rhythm between them.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras eventually breathed into the quiet. “This happens sometimes.”

Grantaire just hummed in return.

“I call them void days. I should be better by tomorrow.”

They were interrupted by Enjolras’ grumbling stomach.

“You didn’t eat today, did you?” Grantaire asked, already knowing the answer. “I’m going to go get us some ice cream.”

Grantaire could feel him smile against his shoulder.

“I’d like that,” Enjolras replied.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone's feeling okay. My favourite thing to do when I'm feeling off is to watch Bob Ross videos. It's hard to feel sad when you're watching Bob Ross.
> 
> Also, I'm always here to chat if you need me on my Tumblr: [fishandchipsandvinegar](http://fishandchipsandvinegar.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks again to [just-french-me-up](http://just-french-me-up.tumblr.com/) and [apolloandr](http://apolloandr.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for hosting ExR Week 2017!


End file.
